House, next to a football stadium

There's nothing like a bit of competition to get me and M interested, so Sunday morning has us running across a park to join other desperate buyers in an "exclusive" preview of a family house.

As we turn into the road where the property is, we're stopped short by the awesome sight of the nearly finished new Arsenal stadium. This "feature" wasn't mentioned in the particulars. M and I aren't really into football. The house itself is fantastic, but views of the Emirates stadium dominate every room. You can almost hear the roar of the match-day crowd. The agent makes no reference to it as he points out the features - storage space, a cellar, cornicing. The guy who arrives just after us is wearing an Arsenal scarf and loiters at the french windows, staring at the stands, a strange, drunken smile on his face.

M and I leave in a muddle. The house is great, but wouldn't it be weird to live 10 metres from the door of one of the biggest football clubs in the world but not to care - a bit like winning one of Willy Wonka's five golden tickets but not really being mad about chocolate? The problem solves itself when we call the next day and find that there are three offers of the asking price on the table.

Meanwhile, the first of our friends has sold up and is moving out of London. It makes me think of that annual Touch-the-Car competition in America, where a bunch of people stand around a new vehicle, keeping their hand on the metalwork, sometimes for days. The last person with their hand on the car wins it. I wonder which of us will be the last with our hand on London.